The Second Confesion

Wolfe grunted. “If you had to earn a living the way I do, Miss Sperling, you probably would starve. Thank you for being willing to listen, no matter why.” He glanced around. “Does anyone else have an irrepressible comment?” “Get on,” said Sperling, who was seated.

“Very well, sir. If at first I seem to wander, bear with me. I want to tell you about a man. I know his name but prefer not to pronounce it, so shall call him X. I assure you he is no figment; I only wish he were. I have little concrete knowledge of the immense properties he owns, though I do know that one of them is a high and commanding hill not a hundred miles from here on which, some years ago, he built a large and luxurious mansion. He has varied and extensive sources of income. All of them are illegal and some of them are morally repulsive.

Narcotics, smuggling, industrial and commercial rackets, gambling, waterfront blackguardism, professional larceny, blackmailing, political malfeasance-that by no means exhausts his curriculum, but it sufficiently indicates its character.

He has, up to now, triumphantly kept himself invulnerable by having the perspicacity to see that a criminal practising on a large scale over a wide area and a long period of time can get impunity only by maintaining a gap between his person and his crimes which cannot be bridged; and by having unexcelled talent, a remorseless purpose, and a will that cannot be dented or deflected.